door frame and about the window. Having finished this, we saw the
need of doing something for the ceiling. The ceiling was merely the
inner surface of the roof. The builders had made it of boards of
varying sizes, the rafters were rough and splintery and there were
myriads of nails sticking through everywhere. It looked a hopeless
task. But we bought more stain and went to work. Before beginning we
covered our precious blue walls with newspapers, donned our oldest
clothes and spread papers well over the floor. It was well that we
did. The staining was not difficult work but the nails made it
splashy and we were pretty well spotted when we finished.

But when we did finish we felt compensated. The nails had become
invisible. The dull blue walls with their bright brass trimming, the
soft brown floor and the stained, raftered roof made the room the
most attractive in the house. We could not rest, although the hour
was late and we were both tired, until we had furnished it. We put
in a couple of small rugs, a brass bed, and a white bureau. We hung
two pictures securely upon the uprights of the skeleton. We added a
couple of chairs and a rack for clothing, put up a white madras
curtain at the window, and regarded the effect with the utmost
satisfaction. The room answered the purpose exactly. The burlap was
thick enough to act as a screen. It was possible to see movement
through it, but not form. It insured privacy and still permitted the
air to pass through for ventilation. As a finishing touch we screwed
a knob on the outside of the door, put a brass hook on the inside
and went downstairs to count the cost.

As a quick and inexpensive method of adding to the number of rooms
in one's house, the making of a burlap room is without an equal. The
idea is not patented, and we who deem ourselves its creators, are